Buffy's Christmas Special
by endlessmuse
Summary: Annual Christmas Specials shall be found here! Each story is different, but all concerns our favorite Slayer and her Scoobies! Christmas 2016's story has been posted. Enjoy!
1. 2015: The Krampus

"Nothing evil happens on Christmas, right?" Buffy asked as she toted in her last haul of Christmas presents. "I mean it hasn't in the four years I've been here, so far. Not on the day, anyway. Is it like a Halloween thing? Where even evil takes a day off?"

Rupert Giles guided her to his carefully chosen Christmas tree, then knelt on the floor and helped place the presents underneath in an orderly manner. He performed a quick, cursory delve into his memory banks of demons who were active on Christmas and came up . . . empty. "Not that I know of," he replied, taking one of Buffy's presents and hearing liquid sloshing within. Inspecting the nametag, he smiled when he saw his own. It looked like he was going to add to his liquor cabinet. Excellent. "Odd though it may be, I think some demons practice the exchange of gifts as well. Though I imagine the contents of those gifts are drastically different from our own. At least, I hope."

"Oh darn," Buffy snapped her fingers. "You figured me out. I got you the bottled soul of a virgin." She pushed herself up. "Where did Xander and Willow go? I thought we were all bunking here for the Eve of Christmas."

"They should be here shortly," Giles checked his watch. "They ran off to procure some snacks. Apparently, mine were . . . lacking." He sniffed at that. His imported Lovehearts were _not_ disgusting! They were a staple in his Christmas celebrations. And just because he didn't have potato chips lying about . . . honestly.

Buffy turned on the TV, plopping down onto the sofa and lounging. Xander and Willow arrived not long after, toting bags of terrible snacks and unhealthy food. "Buffster!" Xander exclaimed, dropping the bags onto the counter unceremoniously and jumping onto the sofa beside her. "Merry Christmas! So, how many presents did you get me?" he asked, eyeing the pile under the tree hungrily.

"Right to the dirty, huh? You'll find out tomorrow morning," Buffy told him.

Willow joined them, squeezing onto the sofa with them. "Since I'm the best friend, it only makes sense that I got the most presents," she said. "Right, Buffy?" she slung her arm over the Slayer's shoulders. "And the fact that I'm Jewish and am breaking all sorts of rules set by my parents to celebrate with you all tonight, obviously means I should be laden with gifts as well."

"I am suddenly starting to feel the pressure of every parent at every Christmas ever," Buffy snorted.

Giles watched them, amused. His three unofficial children. Each one was utterly ridiculous in their own way. He held a fondness for them all. Yes, even Xander . . . at times. Settling into his armchair, he cleared his throat. "I-I . . . thought we might do a bit of caroling later," he suggested. "I've picked out—"

"And on this warm Christmas Eve, we want to remind everyone to take the necessary precautions this evening," the news report broke through all conversation. "As we all know, this marks the fifth year of the Christmas Killer's attacks. The police have been—as of yet—unable to catch him, or even identify a suspect. So, while you watch your Christmas movies and spread that Christmas spirit, please just remember to keep an eye on one another, and to report any suspicious behavior immediately to the police. Have a good night, Sunnydale, and Merry Christmas."

The report ended, and the four of them stared at one another. "So, research?" Willow asked.

* * *

"The reports are everywhere," Willow said, looking through the computer. "Not just in Sunnydale either. All over the world." They crowded around her. "And the reports go back . . . for as long as someone's been reporting."

"And it's the same case each time," Buffy said, her brow furrowed. "The parents wake up and find the child has been missing. No signs of a struggle. No break-ins. It's as if they've vanished in thin air."

Xander scratched his head, looking over at them. "I'm just going to point out the obvious here. A lot of these kidnappings . . . they happen all across the world . . . on the same night. It's either multiple people, or—"

"A demon," Giles finished. He remained on the sofa, a book in his hands. It was one of fairytales. They had used it earlier to battle against The Gentlemen. Now, it seemed they were up against another fable. He cleared his throat and stood. The others immediately took the sofa instead, listening. "It's Krampus." The three of them sniggered at the name. "I wouldn't laugh. Krampus is an ancient demon. Perhaps one of the first ever created." Giles rubbed the back of his neck, feeling very tired. This was going to be a hell of a fight. "In Austro-Bavarian Alpine folklore, Krampus is mentioned frequently. They write him as the nemesis of Saint Nicholas. The . . . anti-Santa, if you will. Where Santa Claus rewards well-mannered children with gifts, Krampus punishes wicked children. The origin of the tale begins here, but it has been recorded by other cultures throughout time."

"Get to the good part, Giles," Buffy said. "Where is he, and how do I kill him?"

"W-well," Giles scratched his forehead, "he resides in his Hell dimension most of the time. Save for one night of the year . . ."

"Lemme guess . . . it's not Kwanza," said Xander.

"Quite. In the early mornings of December 25th, Krampus reportedly opens a portal to this world. Though I'm not sure if it's true or not, he takes the children who have misbehaved the most and . . . brings them to his Hell Dimension. Reportedly to . . . eat them and trap their souls in his Hell dimension. It grants him immortality . . . but only so long as he steals enough children." Now, to the tricky part. "Baiting him is near impossible, but—"

"Someone needs to misbehave," Buffy answered.

"You mean like . . . drink a bunch of alcohol, make hit up a strip club and graffiti someone's house?" Xander asked. "I volunteer!" he shot his hand up.

Giles gave him a withering look, closing the book with a loud _SNAP!_ "If we want to appeal to Krampus, we need to use someone who has otherwise been pure . . . quite behaved for most of their life. The sudden change will interest Krampus . . ." he drifted off, and all eyes turned to Willow.

"M-Me?" Willow cast them an anxious look. "Oh boy."

* * *

Giles parked his car outside of the unsuspecting victim's house. Buffy sat in the passenger's seat, and she turned to look at Xander and Willow in the backseat. "You ready, Will?" she asked her.

He looked back at her as well. Willow was giving them an uneasy look. "I mean . . . but they've never done anything bad to me. I don't feel right—"

"That's good, Willow. We need you to do wrong now," Xander said, patting her hand. "And all we're doing is egging the house. Not robbing them or anything."

"Though burglary would likely catch Krampus' attention quite quickly," Giles murmured. "But this . . . is a start. Go on," he urged them. They opened their doors and grabbed their baskets of eggs. Willow walked after them, her shoulders slumped. Giles' heart went out to her. Willow was at her very core, a good girl. There wasn't a true evil bone in her body, and he quite appreciated that about Willow. Her simple goodness had a quality of pureness to it. Someone with a dark past like himself found the light she gave to be healing. This experience wouldn't taint her . . . he hoped.

Willow reached into her basket, holding the egg in her hand. She hesitated. Giles could see the tension running through her. Finally, she lifted her arm and threw the egg at the house. It splattered right across the siding. The others threw their eggs afterwards, spurring her on. Willow threw a few more . . . and even started to laugh after awhile. All of a sudden, a light turned on. "Retreat!" Giles shouted at them. "Get back in!" They bolted for the car, diving in. Just as the front door was opening, Giles stomped his foot on his car's gas petal, and they lurched forward down the road. The teenagers laughed, relief obvious that they hadn't been caught.

"Okay, so," Willow wiped her eye, "that was actually kind of fun. What do we do next?"

Their next stop led them to the main campus of University of Sunnydale. After sneaking along the grass, they took out their paint cans and defaced school property. Willow spray-painting mathematical equations against some windows. Xander was spray-painting the standard penises. Buffy was drawing peace signs and crosses. Giles, feeling quite like he had taken a trip back to his Ripper days, was attempting to recreate _The Creation of Adam_ famously painted by Michelangelo. It was atrocious. Spray paint hardly had the same effect as wet plaster.

"Oh man, we should have done this ages ago at the high school!" Willow said, examining their work. "Let's go do something else! Why don't we find some books and rip them up!?" Giles gave her a wounded look, and she quickly shook her head. "Whoa. Evil is powerful and seductive. No wonder Darth Vader fell in so hard."

"I . . . I think we've done enough," Giles said. Talk of ripping books had nearly given him a heart attack. "I suggest we return home and await to see if Krampus stops by. He prefers to use the chimney, so we might be able to set some sort of trap." They returned to the car, Willow slumping behind. Giles drove them back to his home, and they prepared a few traps. Giles wasn't entirely sure what could kill Krampus. He was, after all, an ancient demon. Surely he had faced Slayers and others before. Yet, he still lived. It was an anxious thought.

As time ticked by, they decided all they could do was wait. Willow slept on the sofa, the closest to the fireplace. Giles rested in his bed in the loft above, able to see below quite easily. Buffy and Xander lay in wait in the kitchen, hunkered down behind the counter. They waited . . . and waited. Hours went by and nothing stirred, not even a mouse. But then . . . all of a sudden . . . there arose such a clatter. A scraping sound came from the fireplace. Giles, who had nearly fallen asleep, woke with a start and peered down. It was dark, but he could just barely make out a set of hooves sticking out of the fireplace. Giles watched the creature take one step out of the fireplace, starting to stoop, and he shouted, "NOW!"

Willow pushed the button on the remote that controlled the fireplace. It lit up, the creature lighting on fire. There was a hissing sound, but the creature came out of the fire all the same. He was hairy, and though some of his hair singed, for the most part, the fire didn't seem to irritate him and soon went out. He was a large creature. His body was rippled with muscle beneath the hair. A pointed tail was the last to come out of the fire. He was winged, the wings currently tucked in against his body. The head was large and reminiscent of a bearded goat and bull. It had large tipped horns that had obviously been the cause of the scraping sound from within the chimney. Smoke came puffing out of his nostrils. His teeth were set in a growl, long and pointed. Though he had humanoid hands, both clenched chains.

He took one quick look at the room, and when his eyes alighted on Willow, they remained. Krampus swung his arm, and the chain wrapped around Willow, locking her within its embrace. She cried out in pain and terror. Giles shot up and fired the crossbow he'd been holding. The bolt pierced through the Krampus' shoulder, embedding deep. Though the Krampus grunted in pain, he merely tugged the bolt out and swung his other arm towards Giles. The chain came crashing through the top of his bed and through the loft's railing. Giles managed to roll off of the bed in time, hitting the floor hard.

Buffy and Xander swooped in then. Xander threw a net over the Krampus. It disoriented the creature for a time as he fought to free himself of it. It gave Buffy enough time to run forward and pierce the demon with a sword forged from silver. The Krampus roared in agony, and only then did they see blood. Black blood. "Silver!" Buffy cried. "Silver kills it!" The Krampus whipped his tail against Buffy, sending her flying back into the wall. She grunted and fell on the floor, momentarily dazed. The Krampus freed itself from the net after disentangling it from his horns.

Clearly, the demon was now pissed. It focused on Xander and lowered its head, intending to charge. Xander made a noise equivalent to a six-year-old girl and turned heel. The Krampus charged after him, his horns lowered to damage. Xander leapt over to the other side of the room. He shoved the Christmas tree behind him. The Krampus hit the tree instead and tripped, falling to the floor. Xander turned back around and leapt onto the Krampus' back. "Silver me!" he shouted. Buffy whipped open the weapon's chest and tossed him a dagger. "Oh, nice," Xander scoffed.

"Size doesn't matter!" Buffy shouted, grabbing some silver bolts and tossing them up to Giles. Xander stabbed his dagger into the Krampus' back. Giles grabbed the silver bolts and loaded his crossbow, taking aim and shooting at the Krampus. The creature was truly agitated now. He threw Xander off of his back as he stood back up, scrambling. Blood was running down his body. It turned its head to Buffy. "Come on, big boy," she said, holding her sword at the ready. "You're on the list. The Slayer list." She winced after that. "Could have been better."

The Krampus used his free chain to whip at Buffy. She dodged, the chain digging into and destroying the floor. Giles made a sound of dismay at that. He'd fixed his house how many times now? He shot another bolt, this one landing in the Krampus' neck. The creature roared in agony, distracted long enough, so that Buffy could run up his arm and shove her sword through the Krampus' chest, right into his heart. Since they weren't too clear on Krampus anatomy, Giles thought that they were quite lucky that his heart was in the same place as most humanoid creatures.

The Krampus choked on blood, his body falling to the ground. Buffy jumped back. The Krampus dissolved into black ash, the chains clinking, the only things remaining of the Krampus. Giles lifted his head, peering out at the destruction of his living room. "Well . . . I didn't get knocked out. I consider that a Christmas miracle!" he beamed.

* * *

After they had freed Willow from the chains, they fixed up Giles' sitting room the best they could. He was already tallying up the costs of a new floor, bed, railing, as well as the damage to the walls and fireplace. It hurt. He didn't suppose any of them had gotten him some rental insurance for Christmas. Lounging once more, they shared a bowl of popcorn whilst watching _The Muppets' A Christmas Carol._ The tree, now split in half, was sitting up against the wall. The presents remained mostly untouched, still neatly stacked.

Sunlight started to filter into the room. It was truly Christmas morning at last. As they began to sort out presents and open them, Buffy came up to Giles. He was smiling at the present he had just opened from her. It was a photograph of himself laying sprawled on the ground after a training session with Buffy, who was standing over him with a quarterstaff. Xander was laughing in the background. Willow had been the one to take the photo. He'd almost forgotten this. On the frame was written: #1 Watcher. "Hey, Giles, so—"

Giles didn't give Buffy the chance to finish. He shot up from his armchair and pulled her into a tight hug. "Oh!" she said in some surprise.

The show of emotion was odd for him as well, being the reserved Englishman that he was. Pulling away, he smiled down into her surprised face. "Thank-you, Buffy. This is lovely," he said, nodding to the photo in his hands. He'd been so unsure of his place in her life this year, of where he stood with the Scooby Gang . . . if he was truly needed any longer. Those thoughts and worries remained, of course, but this photograph reaffirmed his standing with Buffy.

She looked away bashfully for a moment, then shrugged and smiled lightly up at him. "Couldn't find any tweed ties, so . . . Besides, all my money went to textbooks this year."

"It's perfect," he assured her quietly, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Now, what was it you were going to say?" he asked, sitting back down and proudly putting the photograph on the end table beside him.

"Oh," Buffy gave him a look, her nose wrinkling, "so, nothing evil happens on Easter, right?"

The End.


	2. 2016: A Christmas Carol

Ah, Christmas. Snow-covered streets and trees. Carolers. Spiked eggnog and candy canes. Heart-warming films and good-cheer passed between passersby. These were the staples of Christmas. Rupert Giles had yet to find any of those elements in Sunnydale, California. There was no snow, the Carolers sang pop!Christmas songs instead of the classics, and it seemed the only station he was getting clearly on his outdated TV was the Hallmark channel, which preferred to air sappy, extremely one-dimensional Christmas love stories instead of the films he grew up with. The only redeeming feature of Christmas on this hellmouth was the abundant alcoholic eggnog recipes.

Oh, and the traditional Christmas play hosted by Sunnydale High School—The Christmas Carol. That seemed to be a staple everywhere. Rupert had seen the production advertised all over the last few weeks' morning papers. He fully intended to attend one of these productions. After all, The Christmas Carol was a decidedly British story, and he was feeling just a tad homesick over the holidays. Everyone was eager to go home for the holidays and spend time with their families—or more realistically, sleeping-in and hanging out with friends—but since his own home was rather far and rather void of people, Sunnydale would have to do. And the Christmas Carol would have to give him the dose of British comfort he was lacking by remaining in the States.

"Snyder strikes again," Buffy complained as she entered the school's library the last day before the holiday break began. Giles, who had been sipping tea and reading the paper, glanced up at her curiously. She was dragging her feet before plopping down in a chair across from him. They stared at each other for a long moment . . . until she finally asked, "are you going to ask me what he did?"

Giles lifted an eyebrow. "I rather thought my silence was question enough."

"No. Because sometimes when you're silent, you aren't actually listening. You're just off thinking . . . whatever people named Giles think about," Buffy said. Giles was silent, having actually zoned out in that exact moment when she had been speaking. "Hello? Earth to Giles?" Silence. "HEY" she said louder.

Giles blinked, driven abruptly from his thoughts. "Apologies, what did you say?"

"Never mind," Buffy rolled her eyes. "You won't believe what Snyder has us doing."

"Attempting to achieve a grade higher than a C?" Giles remarked with a small teasing smirk.

Buffy gave him an unamused scoff, but proceeded with the truth. "He's making Willow, Xander and I perform in the school's play. Us. You saw how bad we were at the Talent Show. Now he wants us to perform again! In an actual play!"

Giles lifted an eyebrow curiously. "Did he give a reason as to his sudden . . . interest . . . in your acting career?"

"Something about wanting to ensure we kept ourselves busy during the Holiday Break. Pretty sure he thinks we're all going to go home and pass around a pot pipe or something," she waved it off. "Or, you know, start a sex trade in our spare time." She sighed heavily. "What am I going to do? I don't have time to practice. And I don't want to do the play at all. I got the part of Fred's Wife. She has like . . . three lines. Which isn't that bad, but if I'm going to do a stupid play, I at least want a starring role and not some accessory. Plus, her lines? Totally boring. Nothing but stroking her husband's ego. Who does that?" she wrinkled her nose.

"Indeed," Rupert said derisively. "What about the others? What parts did they receive?"

"Willow got the Ghost of Christmas to Come or whatever. Non-speaking role. At least Snyder spared her in that regard. Not that that matters to Willow. Just being on stage is going to make her freak out," Buffy said. "And Xander," she snorted, "Xander . . . is Scrooge."

Giles' eyebrows practically flew up into his hair. "Xander received the starring role?" he questioned. Buffy nodded. "Blimey. I didn't intend to see the high school production, because I wanted to see something worth my money, and now I know that I will _definitely_ not be attending. The secondhand embarrassment alone would kill me."

"You have to help us, Giles," Buffy said, her voice desperate.

Giles set his newspaper down, shaking his head. "I'm not entirely sure what I can do, Buffy. Principal Snyder is my boss, after all. If he wants you to perform, you're going to have to perform. When are rehearsals?"

"We start tonight," Buffy groaned, none-too-pleased at the powerlessness of her Watcher. "I guess there's one silver lining." At Giles' questioning look, she replied, "Andy Williams got the part of Fred." Her eyes turned soft, and she sighed happily, "he's so dreamy."

"Yes," Giles murmured, removing his glasses and cleaning them. "Just-um . . . make sure that the only . . . stroking you do for your husband begins and ends with his ego." Standing from his chair, he finished wiping his glasses and put them back on. "Shall we get in a bit of training before you're off to learn about mid-nineteenth century Britain?"

"I've been rubbing elbows with you for a year now, Giles," Buffy told him, hopping out of her chair. "I already know everything about mid-nineteenth century Britain."

* * *

The next morning, Giles woke a little later in the day. It was a lovely start to the holiday breaks. Indeed, his morning was progressing quite well. He had a filling breakfast and had just put in an order for a series of books that was to be distributed early next month. He was just collecting the morning paper when the bold-faced headline caught his eye. **'FIFTH ACTOR DIES DURING "A CHRISTMAS CAROL." PERFORMANCE. SERIAL KILLER FEARED.'**

Normally, Giles might have simply turned the page. After all, serial killers were human and thus out of the realm of Watcher/Slayer duty. But since he had intended to attend the performance of the theatre listed in the story, he decided to read it in full. Walking to his armchair, he sat down and turned to the full story, reading through the journalist's report of the event quickly. When he had finished, he was left with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Oh dear . . ." He needed to see Buffy.

A rushed change of clothes and drive to Sunnydale High later, he was charging into the auditorium where sets were being built and students were running to and fro as they learned their marks and lines. Giles dodged as much of the chaos as he could, nearly being squished under a set piece that decided to fall, and finally found Buffy and the others sitting backstage and looking terribly comfortable. "Giles!" Buffy exclaimed, grinning when she saw him, "you hear to bust us out? Please tell us you're here to bust us out."

"Yeah, G. There has to be some evil afoot somewhere. Right? _Right?"_ Xander asked, already looking pale and ill. There was even a sheen of sweat across his forehead. It didn't seem he was taking to his starring role all too kindly.

"Actually . . . quite possibly," Giles said. They made sounds of relief, looking as though he had just told them that their precious canine companion had made it through a risky surgery safely. "At least something worth investigating. Has anyone read the newspaper today?" Their blank stares reminded him that newspapers were no longer considered 'trendy.' "Ah. Well, there have been five unsolved murders in Sunnydale. Each victim played the same part in the 'A Christmas Carol' play—Scrooge." The three of them stared at Xander, who started to pale in the wake of this news. "Though the suspect has yet to be caught, each victim is left with the same sort of wounds and is murdered shortly after the First Act."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "So what about these murders makes you think it's supernatural?"

"I don't," Giles admitted. "Not yet. Though the particulars seem rather questionable. No one is aware that their lead actor is being killed off-stage somewhere? And the markings that they describe—perfect circle imprints on the forehead—something about that seems familiar to me," he murmured, trying to recall just where he had read about such attacks—and what had caused them. "Regardless, the only way we're going to be able to check is at the high school performance. All other performances of the show have been cancelled until the police catch the murderer. Principal Snyder decided tradition was important than student lives—or Xander's life, in particular—so he isn't adhering to the police's request to shut down the performance."

"Oh, lucky me," Xander bemoaned, the pallor turning green instead. "Not only do I have to learn over a hundred lines, I also have to worry about being murdered. If I survive, I better win an Oscar."

"Erm. The correct award you're looking for is the Tony award. You'd never make it in film," Giles bluntly remarked.

"Well, you have a daytime TV face," Xander retorted.

"That's when soap operas air, and the men hired onto those shows are all Adonis', so thank-you," Giles shot back, then realized that he had admitted that he was not only aware of soap operas, but also knew what some of the actors looked like. "Ahem. Moving on," he cleared his throat and pressed into the previous subject before anything could be said, "we need to prepare what we can. I have to see what the books say about those markings. With any luck, we'll know exactly what we're dealing with by the time the curtain rises."

* * *

Yet, days later, there had not been a single break in their investigation. Or, perhaps, the correct result was that there were so many breaks, that it was nearly impossible to whittle it down to a single suspect. Giles was running his hand wearily through his hair on the night of the opening performance. Dark circles clung under his eyes—a testament to the lack of sleep the Christmas holiday had provided for him. The Scoobies were equally as exhausted—especially Xander, though his came about more from terror than anything else. "Well, we know for a fact that it isn't a vampire," he said for what was likely the hundredth time. "The wounds don't match."

"That still leaves twenty other possible demons," Buffy sighed. "I'm starting to love that I only have three lines in the show. Otherwise I might end up shouting, 'By golly, guv'nor, that Scrooge is a real multi-phasal lexon demon!'" Giles inwardly winced at the horrid accent she had attempted. Even Henry Higgins would cringe at that.

"Speak for yourself. I've barely managed to memorize half of it," Xander bemoaned. "I don't even remember schoolwork following into the next day." He rubbed his face. "I'm going to die. If the demon or whatever doesn't kill me, then the audience is once they realize they've wasted their money on a ticket."

Giles looked over him. He felt something akin to sympathy as he did so—the poor lad was practically trembling. Sighing, he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose in a manner that spoke of determination. "Well then. I suppose there's no other way around it. I'll play the part."

"What!?" they cried in unison—though in varying tones. Buffy's was of panic, Willow's of excitement and Xander's of relief.

"Quite. I know the entire part by heart, anyway. It's rather indoctrinated into my ilk at an early age. At least it used to be. No, there's no other way around it. I'll play the part of Scrooge. We'll tell Snyder you've fallen ill or something. In the meantime, Xander, you'll have to keep an eye out behind the scenes. Buffy, Willow and I will only be available to move so far from the stage." He didn't particularly enjoy the thought of his life being in Xander's hands, but . . . he couldn't exactly allow for him to play the part of the bait when there were so many variables yet either.

Neither, it seemed, did Buffy. "Giles," she said, frowning at him. "This is dangerous. We don't even know what we're up against."

"You know, I can't help but find it slightly offensive that you're less willing with him risking his life than me," Xander pointed out. "Just saying!"

Buffy nudged him. "You're basically a demon magnet, Xander. It was bound to go after you, regardless." Xander scoffed, but nodded. Her gaze returned to her Watcher. "Are you sure?"

The thought of a demon coming after him compounded with stage fright was really quite deterring, but Giles knew this was what he needed to do. He gave a firm nod. "You'll need a costume," Willow pointed out. "You're a bit taller than Xander."

"I have some old clothes lying about. They should suffice," Giles murmured, his tone distracted as he began to think about possible traps or detection spells they could put into place. Hearing the snorting and chuckling, he glanced up to find them giggling amongst each other and eyeing him. "What?"

"Oh nothing," Buffy grinned. "Just . . . somehow it isn't all that difficult to imagine that you _would_ have nineteenth century clothes just lying about. You know, since you're from there." The three started laughing again, making Giles roll his eyes.

"Amusing. They're heirlooms," he sniffed. The fact that the top hat was actually a recent purchase was kept to himself. "Now, be off. We may not know what's coming our way, but that doesn't mean we can't be ready. I want to smuggle an assortment of weapons in the theatre. Mind you don't place them where the layman might pick it up," he added. "Willow, you and I will work on some spells. Something that might give us the edge."

They broke off into pairs—Xander and Buffy booby-trapping the theatre and placing their arsenal hidden places throughout—and Willow and Giles painted runes onto the floor and ceiling of the theatre to hopefully trap—or at the very least sound an alarm—whatever it was that might come after Giles that night. With the theatre prepared and Snyder dealt with, Giles dressed in the costume he was to wear for Scrooge. As he put the top hat on, Buffy came wandered into the makeup room and looked him over.

"Okay, it's scary how British you look right now," she told him.

"I'm not sure whether I should be offended or not," Giles replied, smirking just a little. Truth be told, he was quite nervous. He had a stake concealed up one sleeve. It may not have been a vampire that was after them, but quite a few things could die when impaled through the heart. Or brain. Buffy hesitated, lingering, and he looked back over at her. "Buffy?"

She hesitated again, then moved forward and hugged him. "Don't die, okay? I won't let you. So . . . you don't let yourself either."

Giles was touched by her concern, and he returned her hug. It was almost comical to think of how they had begun. He could hardly tolerate her, and she wanted nothing to do with him. Now, he couldn't imagine his life without his Slayer. "I have my Slayer near. I'm in good hands," he told her warmly. She pulled back and nodded, her brow creased with focused determination. She was ready for the fight ahead . . . whatever it might be.

They parted, Buffy heading out to check in with the others. Giles stared at himself in the mirror. His heart was beating quickly—apprehension looming high. "I need a bloody vacation after this . . . vacation." Fixing his cuffs, he took a few deep breaths, and then headed out backstage. His eyes were peeled, glancing at everyone as he passed. Most were students—fellow actors and some crew. Yet any one of them could be the demon. He nearly jumped when he was touched on the shoulder and had to fight not to squeal in terror.

"You're up in five, Scrooge. Take your place," the backstage manager informed him, nudging him to his waiting mark.

"R-Right," Giles murmured, moving forward. The play was already in progress—the opening scene currently occurring. Giles looked out from between the curtains. All seemed perfectly normal and at ease on stage. Glancing towards the audience, he peered through the blinding spotlights to find a mostly crammed house. Perhaps the demon was among them? There was a nudge on his shoulder again, and the manager counting down until his entry. Once they counted to one and gave him a small push, he was walking out on stage. A strange thrill ran through him as the spotlight washed over him. Right . . . acting . . . he could do that.

* * *

Judging by the snores he could hear from the audience, he really could not do this. He knew he should have insisted on the musical version. At least he had some semblance of talent with singing. As the narrator took over, telling the audience that Scrooge slept, waiting for the visit from the next ghost—that of the Present—he laid himself down on the make-shift four poster bed and closed the curtains around him. Staring up at the ceiling, he waited for the lights to be dimmed. It was the closing of the First Act, and once the lights were extinguished, the set had to be moved for the Ghost of Christmas Present to arrive.

Giles sighed lightly, tapping his fingers against his chest irritably. Why weren't the lights going down? Was it a malfunction? He was just about to stick his head out from behind the curtain when he realized . . . the light wasn't coming from outside . . . it was inside of the curtains. The ceiling he had been staring at seemed to dip down, as if it had become liquid and was about to release a drop. Giles froze, pressing himself back against the bed as it drew nearer. Before he could cry out, the form suddenly rushed at him, sending his body right through the bed and down into a trapdoor underneath the stage.

The last thing Giles saw before he blacked out was a face—was it a face?—that he vaguely recognized. It had been the face of the actor playing the Ghost of Christmas Past. Draped all in white, their face had been more-or-less concealed, but he remembered the dark eyes. Giles was pinned to the ground by two strong arms, and then he felt something pierce his head. Crying out in pain, he realized he recognized this pain . . . it had happen to him before . . . years ago when he had been but a student at the Watcher Academy . . .

" _Come on. The Highgate Vampire has to be here somewhere," Philip said, leading them through the vacant cemetery. "Does everyone remember the plan?"_

" _Yes, yes," Lucy replied irritably. "We've only been practicing for months. I'm anxious to have this over with, so we can move onto something different."_

 _Rupert followed after them, his hand clutching the wooden stake in his sweaty palm. He wished he was as confident as the others. He was no stranger to vampires—having a Watcher for a father did that—but he wasn't prepared to tackle one just yet. "J-just remember our form," he stuttered. "We're just students. No one try and play the hero."_

" _Speak for yourself, Rupert," Charlotte smirked over at him. "We're neck-and-neck in top marks. I'm determined to outdo you tonight." Rupert couldn't help but smile at her. He fancied her a bit . . . her freckles were rather adorable, and she was wicked smart. Perhaps tonight wouldn't be so bad after all. He needed to keep up the competition, after all._

 _A sudden rustling noise up ahead made them freeze. "Low now," Philip whispered, and they crouched, all of them holding their stakes out as if that alone would keep them safe. They crept forward as quietly as they could, peering over a long tombstone to see a figure in a trench coat bent over what looked like a woman dressed in black—a mourner. "Okay," he turned back to them. "Remember the plan. Giles and Lucy toss Holy Water bombs at it to disorient it. Charlotte, you and I will rush forward and stake it whilst it's in pain. Ready?"_

 _Giles produced his perfectly crafted holy water bomb and nodded. They took their places, and at Philip's nod, he and Lucy tossed their bombs. They splashed all over the figure, but did . . . nothing. The students froze—confused. The figure dropped its victim and turned toward them. The hood of the coat fell back, revealing dark eyes and a long proboscis that was dripping with blood._

" _What is that!?" Lucy exclaimed, stepping back._

 _Giles had never seen it before in any of the texts they'd read thus far. The others seemed just as flabbergasted. In a flash, the creature had jumped from its spot and was suddenly snatching Philip up their hiding spot and piercing its proboscis through his skull. Philip's eyes rolled back, but he otherwise made no other sound. The others, however, did. Lucy shrieked, making the creature lash out and claw her throat out in one swipe with its razor-sharp claws. Lucy fell to the ground—dead._

 _Giles and Charlotte scrambled to their feet and ran back towards the entrance where the Watchers they had traveled with were waiting. His father was among them. His heart was racing in terror, his hand clasped tightly to Charlotte's. "GILES!" she suddenly squealed, and he felt her hand pulled from his grasp. Giles turned to find the creature had tackled her to the ground. In horror—and heartbreak—he watched the creature snap her neck before launching at him. Giles didn't stand a chance. He fell onto the grass, hitting his head against a tombstone that had him seeing stars. He was vaguely aware of a piercing pain in his forehead . . . and then blackness . . . screams . . ._

Screams . . . jostling . . . Giles slowly blinked, consciousness crawling back into his brain. His head was aching horribly, and he felt as though he'd had the wind knocked out of him. It was dark and . . . fuzzy. Where were his glasses? "GILES!" he heard shouted somewhere above. "GILES GET UP!" Was that Buffy? As he became more aware of his surroundings, he also heard the sounds of fighting and grunting. Opening his eyes completely, he found himself lying on his back on the ground. They were underneath the stage, only a few lights on around them.

Yet, he could see Buffy struggling with . . . "No," he breathed when he realized what she was fighting. Of course. It all made sense. A Lorophage Demon. Buffy was struggling against it. She kept ducking as the demon slice at her with its claws. Willow was tossing weapons over to Buffy left-and-right. Xander was on the ground, seemingly knocked unconscious. Giles got to his feet and blinked back the pain in his head. His Slayer needed him—Lorophage Demons were practically impossible to kill.

"Keep it occupied, Buffy!" he called to her, rushing to Willow who was preparing some sort of harpoon gun. Where had she gotten that? He didn't know he had a harpoon.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK I'VE BEEN DOING!?" Buffy called back. "I wasn't the one napping!"

Giles scoffed. "I was rather knocked out!" He took the large spike from Willow's harpoon gun and turned toward them.

"That's what you always say!" Buffy shouted back, struggling against the demon as it tried to use its proboscis to pierce through her head.

Giles charged towards them, harpoon spike in his hands. "GET BACK, BUFFY!" The Slayer braced her feet against the demon's chest, then used the grip on it to shove herself back out of the demon's arms—jumping backwards and landing on her feet just as Giles shoved the harpoon spike through the Lorophage's skull. The demon shuddered, blood oozing from the wound. Giles groaned and wrenched it further in. Buffy rushed back to them and grabbed the spike on her end, yanking it through the Lorophage's head and then piercing it through the chest. Giles jumped back as the spike came through the demon's back. "Bloody hell."

The demon sank to its knees before falling to the floor—dead. Giles stumbled back, breathing heavily as the adrenaline worked its way through him. "What . . . what happened?" he asked, looking back at them. Willow was helping Xander up, who was looking just as confused as Giles felt.

"Xander heard the commotion and rushed down here. He saw the demon over you and tackled him. He shouted loud enough for us to hear and we hurried down. We weren't sure if you were still alive," Buffy explained.

"You were seizing while that thing was . . . doing whatever it was doing to you," Xander said. "Hopefully not laying eggs. That sounds horrible."

Giles lightly brushed his forehead, fingers gingerly touching the sore spot in the middle of his head. "Not laying eggs . . . feeding." He shuddered. "This isn't my first time with a demon of this kind. It's a Lorophage Demon . . . Ancient and rare." He looked down at the corpse of the one they had fought. It was still draped in the white cloak that had been serving as the Ghost of Christmas Past's costume. "I first came across one when I was at the Academy. A group of students and myself were sent out to hunt it. The Council believed it was just a pesky vampire. They were mistaken, and everyone but myself was killed because of it." Giles frowned—the memories quite fresh. He felt the grief now that he had then over the deaths of his fellow classmates—of Charlotte.

"The Lorophage feeds on traumatic memories. They pierce the mind and make you relive those memories. Most are driven mad and killed . . . My father and two other Watchers saved me. Now it seems my life is saved again by the three of you. You have my thanks. At least I haven't been driven mad . . . so far, anyway," he added with a shrug. His head was sure aching though. "It's clear that this demon found the perfect guise as taking the place of the Ghost of Christmas Past. Little lines. Long cloak. It was likely drawn to the character of Scrooge precisely because of the traumatic memories in his past." Giles noticed, suddenly, that something seemed a little . . . off. "Does um . . . anyone know where my glasses are?"

"Is that why you're talking to the wall?" Buffy asked, touching his arm and holding out his glasses to him. Giles grunted and put his glasses on the bridge of his nose. At least he had been able to see enough to drive the spike where it needed to hit . . . even if he had been aiming for the demon's chest. No one needed to know that though.

"Well," Giles fixed his collar. "I suppose we ought to head back up there. My audience awaits."

"Oh . . . about that," Willow eyed the others, "they-um . . . all left. During intermission. So. The play has been cancelled."

"What!? Why!?" Giles exclaimed.

"Ummmm. They wanted to be home with their families?" Willow said in a tone that was far from convincing.

Giles frowned heavily. Surely his performance hadn't been _that_ terrible! "Giles, buddy," Xander wrapped an arm around his shoulders, "let's just say you're not getting that Tony either."

"Ba—" Giles grunted, "humbug."


	3. 2017: Black Friday Sales

**Author's Note: My apologies for the delay in posting this fic. was giving me some difficulties in posting, so here it is at last! This year's fic is inspired by a certain creature from the famous Doctor Who series and Christmas shopping fads. Shop wisely, my friends.**

* * *

"This is it," Buffy said gravely, her eyes focused on the locked door. "The single most terrifying night of my life." Her eyes narrowed. "Black Friday." Beside her, Xander and Willow yawned in unison, blinking the sleep from their eyes afterwards.

Giles was a tad more awake, but only because he had been awake anyway with Buffy patrolling the local graveyard. "Remind me again why this silly tradition exists," he said, bringing his thermos to his lips and taking a long draught. It was bitter, not at all enjoyable, but he didn't wish to enjoy coffee. Americans were addicted to the liquid, and he refused to be Americanized by enjoying the brew _too_ much.

Buffy turned to him, appearing thoroughly confused as to his own confusion. "Because of the sales, Giles. As in 50% off. 70% off. You can get all your Christmas shopping done in a single night and not break the bank. At least, that's what mom always said. She always went." Silence held for a moment, as they gave a silent thought towards the late Joyce Summers. Xander patted Buffy's shoulder comfortingly, and Willow offered a sad smile. It was the first Christmas without Joyce, and Buffy had been determined to keep up with the same traditions she had instilled in the household. Giles had yet to see the appeal of standing in a long line outside of a store in the chilly night near the break of dawn. He hadn't slept in thirty hours.

Sudden movement from behind the doors made Willow stir. "Oh, they're opening, they're opening. This is actually getting really exciting."

"Prepare yourself," Buffy said, crouching a little.

Giles lifted an eyebrow. "Why? It isn't as though there's a rush to—oof!" he was immediately shoved forward as the doors opened, the crowd behind them all lurching forward to get inside. His coffee was shoved right out of his hand, flying somewhere, no doubt in someone's face, but before he could even attempt to apologize, he was being jostled and manhandled right into the store. He'd lost the others in the sea of eager buyers and marveled that he hadn't acquired any broken ribs during the migration. "Buffy?" he called, using his tall stature to peer over the heads, searching for her.

"Giles!" he heard distantly and turned, spotting the three of them with a cart and heading towards the toys section.

"Pardon me, excuse me," Giles said politely as he danced his way through the rushing bodies over to them. By the time he rejoined them, he was panting hard and lightly sweating. "That's . . . that's . . . that was the most violent experience I think I've ever had," he managed to gasp out, wiping his forehead lightly with a handkerchief. "People turn into beasts after Thanksgiving. I'm beginning to believe that it's all a sham. You colonists don't divulge in turkey and food as an expression of gratitude. No, it's in fact a ritual sacrifice to gain strength and fortitude for surviving the gauntlet into the store."

Buffy grinned, finding his out-of-sorts state to be rather amusing. "Welcome to America, Giles. Now, let's go. We can't dally, or we're going to miss all the cool stuff."

Willow laughed at that. "Dally. What a Giles word."

"What are we after, anyway?" Xander asked, looking up at the numerous signs that declared items on super sale.

"I don't know," Buffy shrugged, "something for Dawn. I want to make sure she gets as many presents this year as she did last year."

"And how many was that?" Willow asked.

"Twenty-four," Buffy said with a light wince.

There was a collective groan. "We should split up," Xander suggested. "Twelve presents for each. You guys hit the toys and makeup. Will and I got electronics and clothes."

"That's a pretty solid plan," Willow smiled, looking impressed.

"What can I say?" Xander shrugged. "Ever since that Halloween where I was turned into an Army Soldier, I've just gotten better at tactics. Divide and conquer." He looked quite smug about it, too.

"Yes, yes, let's carry on, shall we? I want to leave this place before the inevitable fire breaks out," Giles grumbled, already feeling a headache brewing in his temple. The two teams parted ways, Buffy and Giles taking the cart into the toys section which was full of frantic looking mothers. "I don't suppose she still plays with dolls?" he inquired, glancing down the packed pink aisle which was crammed full of dolls.

"If only it were so easy," Buffy replied. "This is terrible, Giles. The first thing that comes to my mind when getting someone a present is a spike and bottle of holy water. What the heck are you supposed to give to normal people? What are normal presents?" she asked him, looking up to him for guidance.

Giles frowned in thought, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Well . . . " he faltered. He hadn't had a Christmas gathering in years, being without much of a family himself. Sure, there were times where he spent the holiday with Olivia, but their relationship required that such a get together be kept at minimum. "Socks?" he answered finally.

"Why did I even bring you?" Buffy asked, deadpanned. "Okay, think. Dawn likes girly things. I like girly things. What would I want?"

Which is how, a half hour later, the cart became full of duplicate items that Buffy had found herself desiring. They were just rounding the corner towards the electronics store to meet up with Xander and Willow when a sudden shout rang out near them. Two women were fighting one another over a blue elf, their struggle quite spectacular until an employee strode forward and broke them up. "What was that all about?" Buffy inquired.

"Elf on a Shelf," a young man wearing the store's employee shirt answered, stepping up beside them. "This year's biggest trend. Everyone wants one. They're great for the kids, you know?" he said, looking up at Giles in particular as he said this. "Their scouts, you see," the employee explained. "They watch the little ones and report to Santa every night if they've been good or bad. They like to play hide and seek, too, if you get my meaning," he nudged Giles. "They've been selling like crazy. That one there was the last one in blue. But we still have a few traditional red and green ones, if you're interested."

"No, thank-you, I think we're quite al—" Giles was about to say, but Buffy quickly cut him off as she took one of the Elves off of the shelf and into her hands.

"Oh my god. It is _so cute._ Look at their little faces, Giles!" Buffy said, lifting it up right into his face.

"Erm. Yes, Buffy. It's quite . . . endearing, yes," Giles said, pushing it away from his face. The employee smiled, obviously having done his job. "Do you really need it? Dawn isn't five, she's fifteen," Giles reminded her. "I highly doubt she's going to believe that a stuffed elf is disappearing to tell Santa if she's been good or bad and then reappearing in the home the next day."

"Maybe not," Buffy agreed, "but we need more Christmas decorations. This little guy will do just the trick." She tenderly placed the smiling, red-suited elf on top of their other items. "I shall name him . . . Elfis. He'll have a penchant for shaking his hips and wearing ridiculous clothes." Giles snorted at that, but indulged in Buffy's playful choice. After all, the elf was on sale, too.

Once they met up with the others, they joined the extensive queue to check out. Giles nodded off a few times while waiting, nearly falling to the floor in the process. But, two hours after they had arrived, they finally loaded up his car, and one-by-one, he drove them all home. When he finally arrived home himself, Giles merely dropped his keys on the counter, removed his jacket, tie and shoes and fell onto the sofa, falling asleep almost instantly.

* * *

All too soon, his phone rang. Giles groaned in displeasure, internally longing for the quiet return of the telegram. He attempted to ignore the ringing, but its persistent blare eventually forced him to push himself up off of the sofa and to the nearby table where his phone rested. "Yes?" he yawned, running a hand through his messy hair.

"GILES," Buffy's loud voice rang out, making him jerk away from the phone. "IT MOVED."

"What?" Giles asked, rubbing his temple. "Buffy, take a breath, what moved?"

"THE ELF. IT MOVED."

Frowning, he hesitated before saying, "are you sure you didn't forget where you placed it? It's an inanimate object, Buffy, there's thousands of them out there. I'm sure the employee was only jesting when he told us the story behind the elves," he reasoned, but Buffy was having none of it.

"It moved. Get here. Now. I can't keep my eyes off of it."

Knowing all too well that there was no arguing with her when she was this geared up about something, Giles told her he was on his way, and then hung up. After a quick shower and change of clothes, he drove over to the Summers' residence where he found Buffy engaged in a staring contest with the innocent looking Elfis, which was sitting happily on the shelf across from her. "Buffy?" Giles inquired as he entered the living room, looking between her and the doll.

"Oh, thank god. Look at it, Giles. Look at it, so I can close my eyes for a second," Buffy said. Giles' brow furrowed, but he fixed his gaze on the elf.

"What exactly is going on?" he asked, feeling rather silly.

"Okay, so when I came home, I put the elf on the couch. I was pretty tired, so I thought I'd put him somewhere tomorrow. Took a bath. Went to bed," Buffy explained, moving beside him, her stature tense, as if she was ready to punch the elf at the slightest movement. "When I came down this morning, it was sitting there on that shelf. I asked Dawn, she said she never touched it. She didn't even know we had one. Giles. It moved there." Sighing, Giles turned away from Elfis, instead looking down at her. "Giles!" Buffy exclaimed, immediately looking at the elf instead. "You can't stop looking at him! As soon as you do . . . it moves."

"Buffy," he touched her shoulder, "I really think you were just tired last night and forgot you placed it on the shelf. Come on, we can run a few tests to see if it's enchanted, but I assure you, it's nothing more than a silly marketing device to make further money on Christmas." Walking over to the shelf, Giles looked the elf over closely, then slowly reached forward . . . and took it in his hand. Elfis remained still and stiff, exactly how a doll was supposed to. Turning him over, Giles began his inspection of any runes that had been etched into the wood, but he saw nothing. Even after opening the seams and searching through the stuffed material, he found nothing within the doll that might somehow make it possessed.

After his inspection, Giles placed it back on the shelf. "Nothing." Turning back to Buffy, he looked her over in concern.

"Oh, don't you look at me like that," Buffy huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm telling you. Something is wrong with it."

"Buffy, if it bothers you that much, why don't you throw it out? Or better yet, return it and get your money back," Giles suggested.

She looked between Giles and the elf for a few moments, then sighed, her shoulders relaxing. "Okay . . . okay, maybe it was just me. But I'm putting him somewhere he can't escape from tonight. Just in case."

Giles smiled indulgently. "Very well. Now, how goes the wrapping? I daresay you're likely out of wrapping paper with all the gifts you bought Dawn." Buffy nodded guiltily. "Come on, I have some extras in my car. I'll lend a hand." She grinned and happily let him do all the rest of the wrapping for her. When night fell once more, he was given the guest room. He watched Buffy lock Elfis in the refrigerator, and then climbed the stairs to bed. It took him awhile to fall asleep, since he had slept so late—not something he normally did—into the day before. But, eventually, he drifted off . . .

. . . Until he heard the smallest scuttling sound. Having slept at Buffy's numerous times in the past year, he had come to know the sounds her house made in the night. That was not a typical sound. As such, he stirred, groaning softly. The world was a blur to him, everything still cast in shadows since dawn still remained a few hours away. Reaching for the lamp, he switched it on and swore he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. Immediately on alert, he sat up and reached for his glasses. As soon as he put them on, images sharpened into focus, and he found himself staring across . . . Elfis.

Gasping sharply, Giles shot out of bed, stumbling in the dark and nearly tripping over a chair. "BUFFY!" he shouted, grabbing the doorknob and all but flying out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him. "BUFFY, YOU WERE RIGHT."

Buffy's light came on in her room, and she quickly opened her door. "What is it? Is it Elfis?" she questioned, holding one of her stakes firmly in her hand.

Giles, his heart pattering quickly in his chest as the terror worked its way through his system, nodded and pointed at the door to his room. "In there. I heard something moving, and when I looked . . . it was there. Sitting on the desk. Looking at me. You didn't happen to put him there as a practical joke, did you?" he asked, rather hoping that this was just one of her pranks.

Judging by the pale look on her face, however, he was going to hazard a guess that it was not. "What do we do?" Buffy whispered. "How do we kill it? We don't even know what it is!"

Giles frowned, looking at the door. "I don't understand it. I checked it. There weren't any signs of it being possessed or enchanted. Unless, of course," he frowned, "it isn't a vessel at all . . . it's the being in question. Elfis isn't a doll . . . it's a _thing."_

* * *

After a few calls, they brought in the Scooby Gang to convene at the Summer's house. The door to the guest room had remained firmly shut, a towel wedged underneath the door to clog the gap. While Giles, Xander and Dawn poured over books to discover just what this creature might be, Buffy stood guard over the door. Willow, their resident hacker, slaved over her computer to track down incidents linked with the elves. "I just don't get . . . why," Xander commented, flipping through one of the bestiaries. "Why set themselves up as some holiday fad? Why do they want to be bought?"

"Infiltration seems key," Giles replied, bringing a cup of tea to his lips as he paged through his own selection—a Watcher diary which he hoped contain something similar that his Slayer had encountered. "Why they wish to infiltrate, however, remains a mystery. We may be worried about nothing. Not all supernatural creatures are evil, after all. We could be dealing with some type of fairy. Some give blessings. Others may be a tad mischievous but certainly not lethal."

"And some leave money for teeth, right?" Xander said with a grin. Giles stared over at him, his mug of tea frozen inches from his lips. Xander sighed, turning back to his book, "well, so much for that get-rich-quick scheme."

"Guys," Willow said, and the tone which she used made Giles' stomach tighten in dread. Nothing good came from that tone. "There's been police reports across the state. The country even. Missing children. Which I thought was just humans being terrible people, but then I saw this." Giles and Xander moved behind her, looking over her shoulder at the computer screen. She clicked on a picture, zooming in on a missing poster image of a child. Willow zoomed in again, and just behind the child's shoulder sat an innocent looking elf on the fireplace mantelpiece. "Now, it could just be a coincidence, but," she clicked on a few more tabs, which showed other photos of missing children, all with a similar elf on a shelf.

"I mean this could just be a coincidence," Dawn said, coming over as well to examine the photos. "These things are super popular. Especially with families with small children." She had a point, Giles realized. The disappearances may not necessarily be linked to the elves on shelves. It could be entirely something different they needed to investigate. All the same, there was something very much alive in the guest bedroom. Either that, or this was the greatest prank that had ever been pulled in the history of forever.

A sudden crash and thudding sound from above caught their attention, prompting Giles to quick action. "Buffy?" he called, worry arising immediately as he rushed towards the stairs.

"It's gone!" came Buffy's muffled shout. Giles joined her upstairs in the guest room, where Buffy was examining a broken window. "It must have broken through and escaped, it isn't anywhere in here. I heard the crash and burst in immediately, but," she peered through the window, "I don't see it anywhere."

Giles pressed his lips together in concern. Their only lead had escaped, and they weren't even sure if it was a creature of good or ill intent. "Is there any way we can track it?" he inquired aloud.

Buffy scoffed. "I mean I can head down and see if it left any little elf tracks behind, but I'm gonna guess the chances are slim of tracking it traditionally." Giles glanced around the room, searching for something Elfis may have left behind that they could use in a spell, but he spotted nothing.

But then he had an idea. "We may have lost Elfis, but . . . there are stores still chock full of these things," he pointed out. "We can procure another one and use it to locate others of its like on a map. Perhaps we can find where they're hiding out. Gain some further intel by observing them instead of the other way around." The others looked wary of bringing another one of those things into the house, but seeing as they had nothing else to go on, they soon found themselves packing into Giles' sports car and headed for the local store.

As before, it was packed full of people taking advantage of sales that spanned over the weekend. Giles was exhausted just looking at all of the people. They squeezed their way into the store and made for the section that had been selling the elves. Both to their relief and horror, there was only a handful left. "These things must be everywhere," Buffy said as Giles picked one up between two fingers and put it in a basket. "In everyone's home. Just . . . watching."

After purchasing the elf—and feeling rather silly for doing so—they went to Giles' flat since he had all the magical ingredients stored away there. The elf was squished inside of an empty pickle jar and placed on the table. Xander kept a close eye on it while the rest of them prepared the tracking spell. With the ingredients prepared, including tearing a piece of the elf's shirt off, Giles and Willow spoke the incantation, concentrating together and using one another's focus and energy to guide the spell into being. A map of Sunnydale was placed between them, and once they finished with the words, a light appeared.

Looking down, Giles smiled, pleased. "That's us," he pointed to the light. "Our elf right there," he glanced up at the elf in the pickle jar. It seemed to be facing the window, which he was quite sure it hadn't been doing before. "Xander, do keep a close eye on that thing."

"Oh, right!" Xander turned away from the map and back to the jar. "This thing is just so creepy. I keep expecting it to start blinking at me. Never knew a staring contest could be so scary."

"There's another!" Willow exclaimed, pointing to the map as another light appeared a few streets down.

"And more now," Dawn pointed out, and they watched in growing horror as more and more and more and more and more lights appeared on the map until most of the map was lit up.

"Everywhere," Buffy whispered. "They're _everywhere."_ The light from the map cast the surrounding area into a golden glow, so bright was the map. There had to be thousands of them. And that was just in Sunnydale and in the surrounding area. "But look," she continued, squinting her eyes past the glare, "they seem to be heavily concentrated in this area, and it doesn't look like there's any streets there."

Giles put on some prescription sunglasses and looked at where she was pointing. "You're quite right. It's the forest. What would a bunch of these things be doing there?"

"Singing carols, wrapping presents," Xander piped out, grinning over at them, "definitely not anything murderous or terrifying." All it took was a few moments of him not looking at the elf, for as soon as everyone looked elsewhere, there was a shatter of glass. They jumped, Xander quickly turning his head and crying out when the elf was right in front of him with a broken shard of glass in its hand. However, it remained frozen, not moving an inch, its smile made all the more hideous with the threatening stance it was in. "Guys? Why . . . why is it just sitting there?"

Giles approached the elf cautiously. It was crouched on the edge of the table, the pickle jar shattered across the rest of the table and floor. It almost looked as though the elf had been about to jump forward onto Xander's chest. "Curious," he murmured, moving behind the elf. Glancing at Buffy, he picked up his fireplace poker and slowly extended it . . . pushing the elf with it. it dropped to the floor, but otherwise did not move. The glass shard was dropped, and Xander quickly picked it up, away from the elf. "Keep looking at it Xander, I think I may have a working theory."

Buffy came over with one of his trunks and then used two salad spoons to pluck it up off the ground and into the trunk. She quickly closed and locked it. Once it was out of sight, the trunk began to shake and thump as the elf struggled to break out of it. "Whenever we looked at the elf, it remained still. Immobile. However, the instant we look away, it moves. What the correlation is, I'm unsure, but keeping the elf in sight guarantees that it remains frozen in place."

"Oh, so we'll just set up an army of people staring. There we go. Problem solved. Bunch of new jobs were just created," Xander quipped, still quite shaken by being almost attacked with a blade of glass.

"But why?" Willow asked, watching the trunk shake a little as the elf violently tried to break out of it. "Why would looking at it make it stop?"

"I'm not sure," Giles admitted, his hands moving to rest at his hips, frowning at the trunk. "But we can figure that out later. Right now we know that it keeps them from moving. We need to head here," he pointed to the map. "Hopefully, whatever we find here will shed some light on their purpose." Now, the real question . . . how did one destroy whatever these creatures were? If the threat to Xander's life was anything to go by, they weren't the friendliest. "We have one trapped," he said, looking over at Buffy. "Now is our best chance to find out how to kill these buggers."

"Well," Buffy grabbed an axe from Giles' weapon storage crate, "I've been waiting to do that all day. I'm thinking if we chop it up into enough bits, there won't be enough of it to run away." The trunk seemed to shake even more at this.

"That's all well and good for this bloke, but we have to find a way to deal with these," Giles gestured to the large glowing blob in the forest. "A single axe, or even multiple ones, won't last against that." They needed something that would spread . . . hit multiple targets at once. Guns weren't exactly available, but . . . His gaze moved to his fireplace. Then to Buffy. She realized immediately what he intended. She nodded. Giles lit a fire within his fireplace, then moved behind her.

"Alright, everyone. Keep your eyes on it the whole time." Buffy opened the trunk, and they quickly all looked within. The elf rested at the bottom of it, motionless, as innocent as if it had never moved an inch at all. Buffy slowly reached out a hand and grasped the elf around the middle. Wincing, she turned and flung it into the fire. They watched the elf as it burned, lighting up quickly and turning to ash. "This is kinda gruesome," Buffy pointed out, her nose wrinkling. "Poor guy didn't even have a chance."

"We're lucky there's only one," Giles reminded her. "And many of us to keep an eye on it. But the point we've made here is that fire is a means of destroying it. Now, we merely need to harness it."

"Got you covered," Xander said smugly. "Just drop me off at the local home department store, give me a few minutes, and I'll make sure we're well equipped for the battle ahead." So, they gathered in Giles' car once more, Dawn was dropped off on the way at the Summers' residence for safe keeping, and they watched as Xander bought an assortment of items. It was nightfall by the time he finished constructing three large . . .

"Flamethrowers?" Giles inquired, inspecting the large tank and nozzle with uncertainty. "Not exactly the most traditional method of destroying monsters, but . . . I suppose desperate times and all."

Buffy, on the other hand, was ectastic. "Oh my god," she took the flamethrower into her arms which was nearly as tall as she was. "I need one of these permanently. Can you imagine all the damage I can do with one of these?" she asked Giles.

Giles scoffed, "to the town at large, yes." Buffy huffed at that. "We use these once, and then put them safely in my storage compartment for unique circumstances in the future." His Slayer opened her mouth to argue, but he added sternly, "no arguments. I can hardly condone barely legal adults wielding flamethrowers all willy nilly."

Despite their grumblings, they equipped themselves with their new weapons and drove towards the local forest. Once they parked in the forest's parking spot for hikers and campers, Giles turned to the others. "We've no idea what we're walking into here. Stay alert and keep your finger loose on the trigger. We don't want to accidentally barbeque a couple of campers." They filed out into the forest, each gripping their weapon.

Willow, the only one without a flamethrower, was holding the map, her brow furrowed as she attempted to lead them towards the center of the glowing mass. "This is pretty creepy, gotta say," Xander said. "They could be watching us right now." He spun around in a quick circle, attempting to spot any of the creatures, looking like quite the heavy metal ballerina.

"They likely are," Giles agreed. "How much further, Willow?" he asked, his gaze on branches above them. He swore he kept saw red flashes darting across the tops of them, but he wasn't sure if it wasn't just his mind playing with him.

"I think we're nearing the mass, but," Willow frowned. "If we are, then they should be all around us."

As if on queue, the sound of scurrying intensified around them. No longer just the gentle breeze and scratch of branches rubbing against one another. These were deliberate sounds, pattering and hurried. "Circle!" Giles exclaimed, and they stopped, pressing their backs to one another, so they all looked out around them. The sounds grew louder, but Giles couldn't see a damn thing. "Anyone see anything?" he asked.

"Just a whole bunch of moving branches," Buffy replied, sounding focused but irritated. He understood the feeling well. Fighting an unseen enemy was among the worst situations one could find oneself in. Beneath them, the ground began to tremble. "Why do I have a feeling that's not a Californian earthquake?"

Giles squinted, and then dropped his gaze from the trees to the ground. Dirt was kicking up seemingly from underground, as if moles were burrowing and kicking dirt upwards. It circled around them, the trembling growing stronger, making Giles nearly fall over. "Guys, guys!?" Xander exclaimed just as the ground beneath them seemed to disappear. They fell downwards, each giving out a cry of surprise. Giles landed on his feet but stumbled to his knees with a grunt, feeling a sharp pain shoot up his leg. Not broken, but certainly sprained.

"Is everyone alright?" he managed to get out through grit teeth.

Three affirmatives replied to him, but aside from the sun above shining down into the hole, he couldn't make out their surroundings. "Where are we?" Willow coughed, slowly getting back to her feet as well.

"Looks like a cave," Buffy said, already on her feet, sharp gaze cast around them. "Some light, Wil?" Willow murmured an incantation and lit a small ball of light, letting it fly above them. It illuminated some of the area around them, but the darkness was too deep. The scuffling intensified, sending a shiver of dread down Giles' spine.

"Everyone send a single blast of flame on my count," he said, righting himself and holding his flamethrower out. They resumed their position from before, back-to-back, and each released a single blast. Before them, and around them, was an army of red elves. They were all immobile as they made eye contact with them, but as soon as the light from the fire disappeared, the scuttling resumed. Well, now that their worst fears were confirmed. "Fire at will!"

They blasted their flamethrowers, hitting first line of elves as they froze in place. Willow hurled fireballs, tossing them at the elves on her side. As the first line of elves caught flame, it spread, lighting up the area further and allowing them to see more of the elves. But even though those that were spotted remained immobile, others yet unseen snuck forward, scuttling ever closer. How many there were, Giles couldn't tell, but it had to number in the thousands. "Not to make anyone panic, but I'm almost out of gas," Xander called to them.

Giles checked his own tank and saw that he was nearing empty as well. A new plan was required. "Willow, the map!" Giles called. "Can you lead us to the center from here?"

Willow hurled another fireball before looking at the map once more. "If the cave continues, we should be able to this. This way!" With that, she led them forward, tossing fireballs ahead of her to clear the way. They formed a triangle behind her, shooting out spurts of fire as they went. Giles took up the back, becoming increasingly aware that the elves were gaining on them. Despite the inferno that they had created, the creatures kept gaining, their number seemingly endless. "We're almost there!" Willow shouted ahead, Giles giving another blast, but it died quickly. His tank was empty. "It's just—oof!"

"Wha—gah!?" Giles tripped, falling face first into darkness, sliding down further and further behind the others. They crashed onto an even lower level of the cave, Giles colliding with the others once they came to a rest. The scuttling had stopped, but it was replaced with a smooth slithering sound instead. "What's going on? Does anyone see anything?" Extricating himself from the other bodies, Giles tried to peer through the dark. "Willow? Light?"

Another ball of light was created, and instead of seeing only further darkness, a large serpentine body glinted off of the light. Giles followed the line of the scales as they receded to flesh, taking the form of a woman at the top. Although she was topless, she was more serpent than human, scales replacing breasts and navel. Her face, however, was entirely human, if not ghastly. Her mouth was larger than was normal, an unhinged jaw opening and displaying sharp, glistening teeth. Once he stopped staring at that horrifying mouth, he saw that the woman, creature, whatever, had no eyes. Or, rather, once had eyes, but what remained were bloody sockets. Blood still remained on her face, dripping down to her mouth, but it had long since dried, as if it had become part of her skin.

"Oh dear," Giles managed to whisper out. The image before him tugged at his memory, but he couldn't recall the creature readily. Before anyone could say or do anything, the woman moved forward, her voice ringing out clear, if not hoarsely.

"You attempt to take my eyes, but they are everywhere. You will not take what is mine. I starve," and this was spoken with a deep groan. Her breath wafted over them, new decay and old decay that made Giles nearly wretch.

"Your eyes?" Buffy questioned, moving in front of her friends, flamethrower in her hands. "Those elf things? They're your eyes?"

The snake woman paused, tongue flickering out to smell them. "Perfect eyes to find perfect meals," she replied in that same clear and hoarse voice. Giles dreaded to know just what she meant by 'meal,' but sure enough, the sound of voices caught others' attention.

"Hello?" came a small voice somewhere in the dark. "Is someone there? Help us! Help us, please!" The sound of whimpering joined the voice, making the snake woman hiss angrily and move towards the sounds. Giles didn't even need to think twice to know who was there. The missing children. Some of them, anyway. He had a feeling some of those children would be missing forever.

Buffy looked over at him, and Giles, tightening his jaw, nodded at her. The Slayer looked over at Willow, who nodded to her as well. Buffy turned the flamethrower on the serpent woman and released a blast of flame. It hit the bulk of her body, making her hiss in pain and anger. She reacted quickly, moving with a speed Giles hadn't expected of her. With a flick of her tail, she sent Buffy flying. Willow moved forward quickly to intercept, shooting another ball of flame at the serpent. As the two women kept the serpent busy, Giles and Xander rushed towards the voices.

They nearly stumbled into the cage which easily contained thirty or so children within it. They were dirty and crying. Some were pale and quiet, obviously having been there longer and witness to events Giles didn't wish to think of. As they worked on opening the door, Buffy was back in the fight, her flamethrower had broken, but she was using the nozzle as a spear now, thrusting it against the serpent's body. The scales were tough, making the nozzle only glance off. The serpent slashed at them again, ripping into both Willow and Buffy with a single swipe.

Willow crashed to the ground, groaning loudly. Buffy jumped back to her feet, running along the serpentine body. With the nozzle in her hands, she jumped up in the air, and with a cry, she thrust the nozzle straight through the serpent woman's missing eye. There was no scream. The creature simply shuddered and collapsed to the ground, dead. There was a moment of complete silence as everyone took in what had happened.

"Willow?" Buffy finally broke the silence. "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah," Willow grunted. "I'm . . . bleeding, but I'm okay."

Xander finished breaking open the gate to the cage, while Giles inspected Willow. There was a gash down her arm, deep, but nothing the hospital couldn't patch up. He took off his tweed jacket and wrapped it around her arm, then looked back at the others. "Come on, we need to find a way out of here. These children need to be taken to the hospital and reunited with their families." Buffy was in maternal mode immediately, telling the children to hold hands and follow her. With Willow weakly leading the way, they climbed back to the surface, finding motionless elves on their way. The sounds had stopped, even after they stopped looking at them. It seemed that by destroying the puppeteer, the puppets were nothing more than cloth and wood.

Later that evening, after everyone had been taken to the hospital that needed to be looked after, Giles was relaxing comfortably on his sofa with a cup of tea. Buffy and Dawn rested with him, Buffy looking through a magazine boasting of Christmas sales. "Didn't you get your shopping done?" Giles inquired, bringing journal to him to finish the entry about the case they had just finished.

"Yeah, but now that I know that supernatural creatures are using shopping fads to ensnare the general public, I want to be aware of any potential threats." Buffy paused, then added a tad more quietly, "plus shoes sales."

"You know, a big thing with the kids is this thing called Hatchimals," Dawn said, sitting on the floor and doing her homework. Both Giles and Buffy looked at her. "Yeah, you just rub it or something, and then a stuffed animal comes out. Or something," she shrugged.

Watcher and Slayer looked at one another. "I doubt it'd be," Buffy said.

"Right," Giles agreed. "I'm sure it's just a fake toy within."

"Definitely."

". . . I'll get the car."


End file.
